


Of Similar Mind

by Tangerine



Category: X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mexico, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Shatterstar hates a lot of things; Rictor mostly just hates telepathy.





	Of Similar Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "TELEPATHY/ MIND MELD" prompt for Round 9 of [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/).

There's something about fighting alongside Julio that's different from anything he's felt before. 

It's not that Julio is a spectacularly good warrior – he is extremely powerful, yes, and he is incredibly fit for the amount of effort he puts into exercising and healthy eating (which is almost none), but he generally lacks discipline and finish, and is often overly concerned with the feelings of the people trying to kill him – but being beside him while they systematically and ruthlessly dismantle his family's criminal empire is deeply satisfying. They work well together, and it's rare they disagree on a course of action, though Julio does like to tease him.

“Keep your mind on the fight, Star!” Julio shouts, laughing as Shatterstar narrowly avoids a bullet to the head, suddenly startled out of his thoughts. “I'm sorry this is so boring for you, amigo!”

“I'm not bored,” Shatterstar grits out, flipping backwards and directing the hilt of his sword into the jaw of Eduardo, who Shatterstar thinks is Julio's third cousin, once removed, but he will be the first to admit he gets easily confused when it comes to Julio's unnecessarily complicated family tree.

It is much simpler, Shatterstar thinks, driving a knee into the face of Juan Carlos (long-term boyfriend of Julio's fifth eldest cousin, Yolanda, technically not even a member of the family), to have been created in a lab and raised in a birthing chamber until maturation. Much less complicated. 

“I fucking hate you freaks,” Arturo spits, coming up from behind and pulling a thin line of wire across Shatterstar's throat with a surprisingly deft hand. Younger brother of the wife (Rosa) of Julio's third favourite cousin, Juan Manuel. He thinks, anyway. It's all very confusing, and now he's bleeding. 

“The feeling is mutual,” Shatterstar assures him, dropping to a crouch and sweeping Arturo's legs out from under him. He takes a long, deep breath, rubbing the tender skin on his throat, then brings his foot down on Arturo's face with a satisfying crunch. Somewhere in the distance, Julio groans loudly. 

“Overkill, dude. Shit! We've talked about this.”

“He tried to strangle me,” Shatterstar protests, pointing at his neck. “He drew blood. It hurt.”

Julio comes up beside him, making a face. “I think you just kicked his fucking nose off.”

“That's not even possible,” Shatterstar starts then stops, reassessing. “Not all of it. He'll be fine. I was otherwise quite gentle.”

“You're adding that to the list of things you can't do to my family members,” Julio says, shuddering, one hand out and sending a continuous stream of vibrations in the direction of the others trying to attack them, who are unable to keep their footing on the pavement. It would be comedic, if Shatterstar was not so annoyed by the whole thing. “I can't believe you kicked his fucking nose off. Gross.” 

“I have too many lists of things to remember as it is.”

“I don't know why you think you have to learn everyone's fucking name,” Julio replies with another groan, clearly exasperated, and Shatterstar shakes his head, unable to believe Julio's gall. They stand there, bristling at each other, for too long, and that's when Shatterstar meets the elusive Maria Elena.

The other mutant in the family. The only one he was _supposed_ to remember. 

The one who, with a simple touch to each of their shoulders, moving like a shadow on the wind, gives them each the gift of telepathy.

It is, Shatterstar thinks, staggering back as his head threatens to burst with raging thoughts not his own, one more reason to hate Julio's entire fekting family. 

~~

Julio's powers explode violently in all directions, and in the confusion and resulting devastation (impressively localized, though when Shatterstar comments on it, Julio tells him to shut up, which is incredibly rude), they manage to escape down the street and into the cab of one very surprised driver.

Julio grits out their current address – a tiny house on the outskirts of town, away from civilization for reasons Shatterstar understands, having seen what Julio does when even slightly out of control – and the further away they get from the rest of the population, the better Shatterstar feels in his head. 

Shoving a fistful of pesos (way too much, but Julio tells him to shut up again when Shatterstar points it out, which is also uncalled for) at the taxi driver, they stumble out of the cab and onto their front lawn. 

Once the taxi is out of sight, Shatterstar is left with only his thoughts, and Julio's. 

He can feel Julio's thoughts pushing at his own, jumbled, messy. They don't even really make sense to him, just sharp feelings of panic and anger drowning out anything else that might be there. 

“Stay out of my fucking head,” Julio warns him, a finger raised as if it can shield him, the other hand pressed to his forehead, and Shatterstar has had just about enough of Julio's atrocious behaviour. 

“I did not do this to you,” Shatterstar replies, stepping back anyway. “You are being unkind, Julio.”

Julio glares at him from beneath his sweat-soaked bangs, but the anger melts out of him, replaced by something else. Shatterstar is still so bad at picking up emotions. It could be resignation, possibly fear. “Sorry, Star,” Julio finally says. “You're right. I'm sorry. I just. Please, if you can, stay out of my head.”

“I don't know if it's that easy,” Shatterstar admits apologetically. “Are you hearing my thoughts?”

“Fuck,” Julio groans, wincing, the heel of his hand still pressed to his temple. “Yes, I'm sorry. How do you turn this off? Holy shit. How can you think in this many languages at once, dude?”

“I wasn't aware I did,” Shatterstar replies, torn between approaching Julio, perhaps trying to offer him some comfort, or leaving Julio alone with his own thoughts, at least for a while. As unpleasant as this is for him, Julio's ongoing issues with telepaths and telepathy are beyond anything he can understand, not even with Julio's feelings in his head. “Should we … separate for a bit? I can go for my daily run.” 

He doesn't mention how much his head is hurting him. Julio likely knows anyway. 

“That's probably a good idea, if you don't mind,” Julio replies, wincing again. “Like, two hours, max. That's all I need. I'm sorry to even ask you for this, Star. I'm such an asshole. I'm so fucking sorry.”

“I will do that then,” Shatterstar assures him gently. “Please take my swords inside.”

“Okay,” Julio grounds out. “Leave them on the ground. I'll get them when you're gone.”

Despite his inadequate footwear, Shatterstar runs until he can't hear anything but his own worried thoughts, which are focused almost entirely elsewhere. He doesn't understand much about anything, if he is being completely honest, but if there is anything he gets even a little, he wants to think it's Julio. 

~~

Eventually, the night grows dark and the temperature cools, and he feels enough time has passed to attempt to return to the house. He approaches carefully, even goes so far as to knock on his own door. Julio opens it without a word, and steps back so Shatterstar can come inside. He seems calmer, except. 

“What is that _noise_?” Shatterstar asks, grimacing at the cacophony coming from Julio's head.

“You've never been taught to do this?” Julio asks, surprised. 

“Do what?” He demands, trying to block out the song and failing miserably. He has never quite warmed to the music here, despite having lived on earth for several years now. Julio tells him it's because he has terrible taste in entertainment, but Shatterstar just doesn't like most music. It's all noise to him.

“You can block someone from reading your thoughts by burying them under something else,” Julio says, scratching a hand through his hair. He's taken a shower, Shatterstar notes. He smells good, like oranges. “If it's too much, we can try something else. It's just a song from when I was a kid. We used to dance to it in the kitchen while she cooked, mi madre and me. My step mom, not my birth mom. ”

“It's fine,” Shatterstar assures him. “It's just … it's very loud.”

“I'm not usually doing this for other people's comfort. Sorry, amigo. I'll try to tone it down.”

“It's fine,” Shatterstar says again. 

They stare awkwardly at each other, so Shatterstar excuses himself to bathe after his run. 

Once inside the bathroom, he drags a hand over his face and stares at himself in the mirror. Unlike Julio, he has no defenses against telepathy, and has never thought it was important enough to develop them. For most of his life, he had no privacy at all, and he still doesn't need it like Julio does. But there are things in his head that he isn't sure he wants Julio to know, isn't sure _Julio_ wants to know. 

Fekt, he thinks, a little helplessly, then turns on the water and steps mindlessly into the stream.

~~

When he emerges from the bathroom, Julio's head is quieter, though the song is still on repeat, over and over and over, an impenetrable fortress of noise that Shatterstar could not breach even if he tried. 

“How long can you do that for?” He asks, crossing into the kitchen to prepare his after-run shake. 

“I don't know,” Julio replies, folded up on the couch, arms around his bent legs. “A couple hours, maybe. It's not supposed to be a long term solution, and who the hell knows when this will wear off.”

“While you are doing that, can you hear my thoughts?”

Julio shakes his head. “No, not really, this takes an enormous amount of concentration.” 

“I see,” Shatterstar says, dipping a spoon into his shake and stirring it until the consistency is something he thinks he can choke down. He vastly prefers solid food, as liquids remind him too much of things better left forgotten on Mojoworld, but he needs quick protein. “So this is not permanent?”

Julio shakes his head again. “Not unless something's changed in the last few months. We just got unlucky that she's recently been in contact with a telepath. I pity the poor fuck who ends up with my powers.”

“Or mine,” Shatterstar says. “Unless their desire is for a nice long nap.”

For the first time in hours, Julio smiles a little, and Shatterstar is happy to see it. Still, he doesn't like this wariness between them, this caution, and he definitely dislikes this song repeating in his head. But the emotion under it, the fond feelings of love between a son and his mother, that's not too terrible.

The only truly awful thing is this protein shake, Shatterstar thinks morosely, gagging it down.

~~

It quickly becomes obvious that Julio is not planning to sleep. 

“It doesn't work if I'm sleeping,” Julio says, still curled up at one end of the couch, watching him warily. He is deeply, deeply unhappy, and Shatterstar doesn't have to be a telepath to understand his feelings. “The absolute last thing I need is someone in my dreams, even if it's you, Star. _Lo siento_.”

“Don't apologize,” he replies automatically. “This situation is out of our control.”

“I don't have good dreams,” Julio says, like it needs to be said, and Shatterstar sighs. If anyone knows how bad Julio's dreams are, it's him after all the times being woken from a dead sleep to Julio's unpredictable night terrors, all the hours spent sitting up with him until he thinks he can sleep again. 

“Do you want me to leave until the effect wears off?” Shatterstar asks quietly.

Julio rolls his eyes. “I'm not kicking you out of your own home because I have issues.”

Shatterstar makes a face at that. He's not sure he even considers this home. It is more that this is where Julio is, and he wants to be with him. That they have a roof over their heads and two narrow twin beds to sleep in is almost inconsequential. “I would come back, Julio,” Shatterstar says. “I don't mind.”

“I mind,” Julio replies, dragging his hands through his hair, the ends curling around his knuckles.

“Is there something in particular you are worried I might discover?” He tries instead, careful.

“Is there something you're worried I might discover?” Julio replies back, a little too sharply. 

“Yes,” Shatterstar says easily, “there is.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” Julio mumbles, looking even more miserable, and Shatterstar thinks it would probably solve all their problems if they just confessed everything right then, but Julio doesn't seem overly eager to share, and Shatterstar can't seem to make his mouth say the words on his tongue. 

~~

The song grows on him, like a fungus, and Shatterstar finds himself humming, though he can't be sure if it's his own brain doing it, or Julio's. It isn't drowning out everything; he can still sense feelings from Julio, but they're muted, abstract. He doesn't dare turn on the television. It's noisy enough without it. 

They sit at opposite ends of the couch, watching each other. If it looks like Julio might fall asleep, Shatterstar reaches out with his foot and pokes him awake. It's almost three in the morning, which isn't all that late with the schedule they keep, but it's been a very long day, and Shatterstar is exhausted.

“Stop thinking at me,” Julio says suddenly.

“I'm not,” Shatterstar replies. “I am thinking the same way I always think.”

“It's distracting,” Julio says, bringing a thumb to his mouth and chewing at the skin there. 

“It's this fekting song,” Shatterstar snaps. “I cannot get it out of my head.”

Julio smiles a little at that, clearly pleased with himself. “I told you it was catchy.”

Shatterstar shakes his head, refusing to admit anything, and scrubs a hand through his loose hair. It's finally dry, hanging in long copper tendrils down his back. He should cut it, he thinks, combing it with his fingers. He sticks out like a sore appendage, especially when they are trying to be inconspicuous.

“Don't,” Julio says suddenly, then immediately realizes what he's done, where his thoughts have pushed into. The look on his face is terrible, definitely one of the worst things Shatterstar's ever seen, and Shatterstar leans over and grabs Julio's wrist before he says anything else. Julio stares at him. 

“Sing that awful song in your brain louder,” Shatterstar says with a hard, even voice. “Understand?”

“Si,” Julio says, glancing down at Shatterstar's fingers on his skin. 

It only takes a moment, but Shatterstar takes everything back. 

He hates this song almost as much as he hates Julio's family. 

And protein shakes.

~~

As sunrise approaches, and it becomes increasingly obvious that Julio cannot keep up his brain song much longer, Shatterstar comes to a conclusion. He is simply going to tell Julio what he is hiding, as a peace offering, so that perhaps, once Julio's head finally stop singing, Julio will feel less exposed. 

And then, after that, he suspects Julio will let him leave as they wait this out, home or not. 

“I will tell you my secret,” Shatterstar says calmly, in the same way he feels right before he takes on an opponent who outmatches him (which does not happen often, but when it does, Shatterstar takes a moment to accept that his life may in fact be ending, that he has acknowledged the possibility). 

“I don't want that,” Julio groans, scrubbing his hand over his face, fighting to stay awake. 

“I am otherwise an open novel,” Shatterstar says, ignoring him. “It is just this one thing.”

“I can keep this up,” Julio insists, the song skipping in his head, like a record sometime does in an important movie scene. If Shatterstar ever hears this fekting song again in his life, he decides quickly, he will immediately murder the person who plays it. “We're allowed to keep secrets from each other, amigo. You're allowed to have private thoughts.”

“It's not a terrible secret,” Shatterstar assures him. “It is simply ... I'm not sure if you want to know.”

“I swear to fucking god, Star, don't tell me anything you don't want to tell me. We can wait this out.”

“That's a lie,” he replies. “Look at you.”

Julio, who has been shaking like a tree for the last hour, who is absolutely drenched in sweat, glares at him. 

“I think about you sexually,” he admits, before he can second guess himself, “often.”

“ _What_?” Julio shouts.

Shatterstar shrugs, believing this question to be purely rhetorical, possibly the first time in the history of their friendship that he has not responded to Julio before realizing that. Julio knows what he said. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Shatterstar says, ignoring the way his heart is beating in his chest, thudding hard against his ribs. Television has not adequately prepared him for this feeling. “On my honour as a warrior, I am telling you the truth. So there it is, you know everything. Yours cannot be worse. May I leave now?”

Julio stares at him, and he stares back. The infernal song drops into a whisper, then fades away. Shatterstar has exactly five seconds of blissful silence (he will murder the person who wrote it, he decides, he will hunt that person down and kill them), before the first of Julio's thoughts nudge at him.

_Me too. Me too. Me too._

“Julio,” Shatterstar says, stunned. 

Julio swears and buries his face in his knees.

~~

Shatterstar doesn't know what to do with this. With Julio, and the way he's looking at him, and the way they're looking at each other. He doesn't know how his head sounds to Julio, but Julio is currently going through the multiplication table, his fingers curled into a fist, pressed again his closed mouth. 

That mouth, Shatterstar thinks briefly, staring at Julio's lips. 

“I'm too tired to deal with this right now,” Julio says wearily, lifting off the couch. “And stop thinking about my lips, dude. You have zero shields, do you know that? You're a sitting duck. If you're so desperate to memorize my family tree, you should be thinking about that until this stupid thing passes.”

Shatterstar pauses at that, looking up at him. “How does water fowl come into this?”

 _I am going to kill you_ comes through loud and clear as well as a vague explanation of the colloquialism. It's still stupid, but Shatterstar gets the point, even agrees with it. That boat, however, has sailed, and there is nothing he can do between now and whenever this telepathic annoyance wears off to fix it.

“I will sleep on the couch,” Shatterstar says. “I believe we need some distance between us right now.”

Julio pauses at the door, his hand on the jamb as he looks back over his shoulder. “Think that'll help?”

“Maybe,” Shatterstar says, unable to muster anything close to conviction. “Don't worry about it, Julio.”

Julio nods, takes one step, then says very quietly, “thanks, Star. You know, for everything.”

“ _De nada_ , Julio,” he replies, just as softly, turning his attention to rearranging the pillows on the couch. A warm feeling comes back in his direction, sending a shiver down his spine, but when he looks up, Julio is already gone, the door closed behind him. Shatterstar doesn't know what he expected. 

Quickly, he strips down to his underwear. He lies down, exhausted to the core, head aching like a broken bone, and falls asleep, pillow still warm from the heat of Julio's body, firmly against his cheek.

~~

Unsurprisingly, he dreams. 

Back at Limelight, all flashing lights and moving bodies, but instead of the music screaming in his ears, it's silent, almost eerily so. He takes one step and then another, and the scene freezes before him. He tenses, expecting the dream to slide into violence or, even worse, into something sexual, but it does neither. The tableau just hangs there like a painting, as Shatterstar moves carefully through the crowd.

Again no surprise, he's at the centre of it, stiff and awkward with Stecky up against him, hands on his chest, too close, way too close. This moment is mortifying for him, and he hates that his brain holds onto it so tightly. Even from a distance, he can see his erection through his dark pants, too obvious.

He can also see who his eyes move to, who actually draws his focus. 

_Julio_.

Now, months later, he can understand how he got there, but at the time, he had felt nothing short of terror. 

Movement in the crowd catches his eye, and he looks over, sees Julio standing there, taking in the scene with a strange look on his face. There's a momentary flicker of embarrassment, but it passes quickly. It's not like Julio hadn't been there to witness it all first hand. He's not seeing anything new.

But it does look different, from a distance. 

“I told you none of this works when I'm asleep,” Julio says, coming up to him. It must be the fact they're not physically here, but Shatterstar can't hear anything in his head. “I'm assuming this is your dream?”

“Yes,” Shatterstar replies. “Unless this moment is equally significant to you.”

“No, I never … all I remember is you running off. I was too busy dancing,” Julio says, eyes fixed on the frozen Shatterstar's face. “Is this actually what happened, or are you making it worse in your head?” 

Shatterstar snorts softly. “Could it have been worse?”

Julio smirks. “Dude, it can always get worse. You could have come in your pants.”

“As usual, your ability to comfort me is terrible,” Shatterstar replies, glancing over at Julio, who grins widely at him. Flustered, Shatterstar looks quickly away, crossing his arms. “Are you feeling better?”

“I guess,” Julio says, toeing the filthy concrete with his bare foot. “Is it okay that I'm here?”

“Better my head than yours.”

Julio nods, and just like that, the scene changes, sliding outside into the drizzling rain. Julio, trying to help; Shatterstar, absolutely miserable. No longer a tableau, but a moving, living thing. Julio watches silently as the events play out word for word like they had at that time, until his dream self steps forward, toward Julio in his semi-dry doorway, reaching for him. Watches dream Julio lift his head, lips parted, shoulders pressed against the brick behind him, hips pushed outward, jean-covered legs spread. 

_Fekt_ , Shatterstar realizes with sudden clarity. He knows exactly where this is going.

He wakes with a jolt.

~~

Blearily, he looks over at the clock. It's after ten, which means he's gotten almost four hours of sleep, and that is usually enough, but this morning he feels like he hasn't slept at all. Staring at the ceiling, he breathes in and out, dragging his hand out of the waistband of his underwear. They didn't even get to the kiss, but he's entertained that fantasy enough to know where his traitorous brain was dragging them. 

Julio appears in the doorway in his underwear, looking even more ragged than Shatterstar feels, hair a wild tangle around his face. “Hey. You okay?”

“I'm fine,” Shatterstar says dismissively, not bothering to hide himself. “You already knew about that.”

“I should have noticed,” Julio says instead, words tumbling out of his mouth, the thoughts echoed in his head. Shatterstar sits up, drawing one foot under his knee. “I should have realized and helped you through it. I should have let you know what I was feeling, that I'm … that I'm into guys. Into you.”

What Julio doesn't say and Shatterstar hears anyway is how important a moment this is for Julio.

“We both know now,” Shatterstar says, hoping he has the right words. Julio is a complicated, messy man, and if this is his introduction to human behaviour, nothing else will ever be so hard. Not even learning Julio's stupid family tree. “Thank you for telling me. I know how difficult it was for you.”

Julio lifts an eyebrow. “You realize I can hear your internal monologue, right?”

“As you keep reminding me,” Shatterstar replies. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Julio says, with only the faintest hint of sarcasm, visibly uncomfortable. He walks to the couch, sitting down, shoulders hunched over and bare. Shatterstar moves without thinking and puts a hand on his back, in that naked space between his shoulder blades. Julio exhales sharply.

“You should try to sleep more,” Shatterstar urges him, fingers gently moving on Julio's overheated skin in a hypnotizing rubbing motion. Despite the heat, Shatterstar feels the shiver of his body as more of the tension seeps out. It's a brazen touch, one he's never dared to take before. “I'll stay awake for you. I even promise to recite your family tree in my head, so you are not disturbed by my thoughts.”

“I'm fine,” he insists, eyes half closed, then mumbles, “mm. That feels good, Star.”

“You feel good,” he tries tentatively, keeping his voice pitched low and deep, but it's shaky. It's not uncomfortable, precisely, more that he has never tried to speak like this to anyone, especially Julio.

“You'll figure it out,” Julio says, sliding a hand over his knee, squeezing it. “You're doing fine.”

They stay like for a while, Julio barely awake but his hand hot on Shatterstar's skin, Shatterstar trying to massage the knots out of Julio's shoulders, mesmerized by the sight of his pale fingers against Julio's darker skin. Their underwear hides nothing; they both have erections. Their mutual exhaustion is palpable. 

He opens his mouth to gently suggest again that Julio needs to sleep (he does, the few rogue thoughts Shatterstar hears in his head from Julio are slurred and broken, basically incomprehensible), but Julio turns to him suddenly, the hand on Shatterstar's knee moving up to cup him behind the neck instead.

And then Julio kisses him. 

And then he kisses Julio.

 _Ah_ , his brain thinks, dazed, _ah, so this is why_ , like it explains everything about human behaviour. 

Julio laughs suddenly, a humid puff of air on Shatterstar's lips, and Shatterstar would feel embarrassed, except Julio's thoughts are warm and affectionate, the first time in the last twelve hours they have felt good. Julio's fingers press more firmly onto his neck, and his tongue slides into Shatterstar's mouth. It's wet and weird and amazing, and Shatterstar finds his own hands drifting down the sides of Julio's torso, skittering over his skin like he's trying to grab blindly at anything as he falls uncontrollably.

Julio pulls back, their foreheads still together. “You have the loudest thoughts on the planet, dude.”

“Cable did always compliment me on the ease with which I worked telepathically.”

“ _Fuck_ , I must be tired, I almost thought that was funny,” Julio moans, kissing him again, just briefly, then again, and a third time, his hand still cupping the back of Shatterstar's head. “I'm exhausted, dude. I just … I can't.”

Shatterstar blinks then asks, before thinking, “can't what?”

And in that moment, Julio is completely open to him, and he realizes Julio has let down every shield he has, shields he didn't even know about, and it's absolutely, brazenly pornographic. Shatterstar hooks a hand around Julio's forearm, trying to find a way to steady himself at the sudden rush of emotions. 

“That,” Julio says breathily, waves of attraction passing between them. “You're blushing, dude.”

“I didn't know I could do that,” Shatterstar admits.

They laugh at each other, and that's enough, Shatterstar thinks. This is enough for now.

~~

Julio hesitates as if Shatterstar will say no, but he ends up sleeping right there, head pillowed on Shatterstar's shoulder. He fits snugly between Shatterstar's legs, bare chest to bare chest. Dutifully, Shatterstar recites Julio's family tree. Omar, his favourite cousin, the one Julio is most disappointed in. Alejandra, his older sister; Gabriela, his younger. The father, Gonzalo, and the mother, Maria.

For hours, he lists every name he knows, over and over, as Julio sleeps fitfully against him.

From time to time, he brushes a thumb over the furrowed skin between Julio's dark brows to break up the monotony. The whole exercise is mind-numbing, but he does it, because he said he would.

At precisely one-thirty-seven, Julio disappears from the edges of his consciousness. At first he thinks he has fallen asleep, his cheek resting on one balled up hand, the other laid over Julio's tense back, but he realizes he's still conscious, that it's finally over. He exhales sharply, relieved, and then he's asleep, too.

He doesn't dream.

~~

He startles awake, the blinding slice of a sun as it sets hitting his eyes. Julio is still there, looking up at him with clear, brown eyes, and when he smiles, a fleeting thing, the skin around them crinkles. The smile immediately returns when Shatterstar combs his fingers through Julio's hair, pushing it away from his face.

That seems to change something, because Julio surges up, arms sliding around Shatterstar's shoulders, fingers burying themselves in his hair. And then there is more kissing, open-mouthed, slick and deep, desperate in a way it hadn't been before. He moves his hands tentatively over Julio's lower back.

“Here,” Julio says, mouthing at his lips, breathing hard. “Like this,” and he takes Shatterstar's hands and leads them lower, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic of Julio's underwear, then lower again. 

From there, he knows exactly what to do, and does, squeezing the rounded flesh of Julio's ass.

Julio drags himself back with a groan. “Tell me if this is moving too fast for you, okay?”

“I'm good,” Shatterstar assures him, dropping his mouth to Julio's shoulder and kissing him there. 

It's Julio who touches him first, _there_ , through the thin cotton of his underwear, his hand curving around the hard length of Shatterstar's cock. Moves on him purposefully, tracing the shape, before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and dragging his underwear down his legs. Immediately, he misses Julio's hand, lifts his hips as much to search after the touch as to help Julio strip him bare. 

His hand on naked flesh feels even better, and then Shatterstar is reaching for Julio to return the gesture, almost tearing his underwear in his haste, and then, and then. They're kissing, and touching, and rubbing, and pressing, and their legs are a twist of limbs, their bodies a writhing mass of muscles, bones and skin. Shatterstar comes, gasping wetly into Julio's open mouth, pulling Julio against him. 

And then Julio comes, and the look on his face, and the noises he makes, are amazing. 

~~

After, Julio showers as Shatterstar sits on the closed toilet seat and watches him. He wants to have sex again, wants to know everything he's denied himself and wants to learn what other sounds he can draw out of Julio, but he's starving, in the most literal sense, and he can hear Julio's stomach rumbling, too. 

It is better not to tempt each other, Shatterstar thinks nobly. Julio looks incredible naked.

“Enjoying the show?” Julio asks, scrubbing soapy hands over his stomach, between his legs.

“Yes,” Shatterstar replies. 

Julio laughs, looking over at him and shaking his head with a smile. “Pork chops okay for dinner?”

“I like everything,” Shatterstar assures him, eyes fixed on Julio's cock as he washes it thoroughly. 

“You hate protein shakes,” Julio points out, turning around and rinsing off, water sluicing down his back. “I had no idea. Why do you keep trying to make me drink them if you find them so disgusting?”

“They're good for you,” Shatterstar replies, shrugging. “We have a lot of muscle to preserve.”

“Too late. The secret's out. I'm not drinking those shitty things anymore,” Julio says, stepping out of the shower and into the towel Shatterstar holds up for him. He settles into the vee of Shatterstar's legs, his skin smelling strongly of oranges again, damp and wonderful. “Thanks again for everything, Star.”

“ _De nada_ ,” Shatterstar says, curving his hands around Julio's hips before pressing a kiss to his belly. The pork chops can probably wait, he thinks. It is unlikely they will starve to death this quickly. “Never sing at me again, and we will call it even.”

Julio laughs, and drops the towel. 

They are, as usual, of similar mind.


End file.
